Riding the Shadows
by Drakai
Summary: Shadows. They can't be destroyed. Not really. They will always come back; it's simply their nature. But they are not all evil. Not by a long shot.


The forest was quiet. Alarmingly, _nosily_ quiet, if such a thing was even possible.

That was nothing new, of course. The Spine was odd at the best of times, even without his shadow lurking amongst the trees, stalking his prey.

This particular prey he had been chasing for a little more than a day. A decent-sized doe, with a broken leg, trailing at the back of the herd. She would make a decent meal for at least a couple of days. Provided he catch it, of course. The last time he came home empty-handed father wouldn't leave him be for days.

There was, however, something in the air that nigh. A chill, or perhaps a subtle shift in the wind. He couldn't quite place it, but his long fingers gripped the yew bow in his hands and his leg muscles were coiled, ready to sprint at a moment's notice.

But for now his sharp eyes were locked on his pray He pulled the bowstring back, notching an arrow and, after a moment's hesitation, let it loose.

However, in that single moment a blinding flash of pale green light appeared in the clearing, burning the ground below it and startling the deer, making them flee the scene. He swore from his perch behind a big tree and pulled three arrows from their quiver, one after the other, firing them more quickly than he was normally comfortable with. The first one missed altogether, the second only grazed the animal's back, but the third one pierced its neck, killing it in place. He grinned, not believing his good luck, and went to gather his kill, and inspect the area.

There was a circle there, in the middle of the clearing, of burnt grass. He could still see the faint cackles of magic in the air disappearing quickly. And there, in the middle of the circle, was _the_ most curious sapphire he had ever seen. Granted, he hadn't really seen all that many of them, mostly just the one in his father's ring, but there was definitely something… off about this particular gem. It was a solid blue color with white veins running along its length, a little bigger than a loaf of bread.

 _If nothing else._ He thought to himself. _It should fetch quite the price when the traders come to town next._ He picked up the deer carcass and slung it over his shoulder, taking a leisurely walk toward the small village at the base of the Spine.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, how went the hunt?" A gruff voice greeted him as he walked through the door of a small hovel, on the outskirts of Carvahall village, close to the Spine.

"As well as can be expected." He shrugged casually, slamming the deer on the table. "Have you anything to say to me?"

"No, I don't believe I do." A tall, old man was sitting at that very table, glancing at the carcass in front of him, unimpressed. "Why?"

"You insulted my hunting abilities before I left."

"No I did not." The old man's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I'm sure you're mistaken."

"No I am not, and yes you did."

"You probably just misinterpreted my words. It does tend to happen from time to time." He huffed and sat at the table. "Eragon, act your age."

"As you say father." Eragon sighed and took out the leather pack which contained the gem. "There was something else."

"Yes?"

"This appeared in front of me, transported by magic."

"And you thought it wise to bring it to our home?" The old man raised an eyebrow. "Eragon… Son, you have to think these things through."

"I sensed no malicious intent from the magic, just the usual residue from a long-range transportation spell. Besides." He grinned, opening the bag. "I believe you might approve once you see what it was, exactly." HE produced the large gem with a triumphant show. "Amazing, is it not? This gem might well tide us over for a few years."

"Eragon…" His father's blue eyes held something Eragon would never expect them to. It was a curious mixture of amazement, fury and extreme sadness. "This… this is not a sapphire."

"What then?"

"An egg." The old man said simply. "A dragon egg, to be precise."

"Dragon? Are you sure?" His father shot him a look. "Yes, of course you are. But… this is not how I imagined them. From your stories, I imagined them more scaled. Not as smooth as a precious stone."

"It looks just like hers."

"Father…" He embraced the man in a short hug.

"I will be fine." The old man shook his head. "I will." He assured his son. "But we can't dally here. We have to leave."

"Why?"

"For the egg to be here in the first place something had to have happened to it elven escort." He explained, packing the few things they would need. He took down two swords from the wall, one a standard hand-and-a-half longsword, and the other a lighter, curved sword. He threw the curved sword to Eragon and fixed the other one to his hip. "Which also means it falls to us to deliver the egg once more to the Varden."

"Must we?" Eragon raised a brown eyebrow, ignoring the look his father shot him. "Can we not at least enjoy my catch first?"

"Bring it with us."

"Oh very well." The tall boy threw the deer over his shoulder again after fixing the long, thin sword to his belt. "What is life without a little adventure, eh?"

"That's the spirit. Who knows, it might even hatch for you." The man's eyes softened when the boy's shoulders slumped.

"Father… You know that will never happen. I will not be made a Dragon Rider."

"You never know." Brom put a comforting hand on his son's unoccupied shoulder. "Fate might surprise you."

"There is no such thing." Eragon locked his red eyes with his father's blue ones.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **How awesome would it be if I had a TvTropes page, huh?**

 **Also, for those schmucks that will inevitably point out all the mistakes that I made, I say I have not seen one yet. Except for maybe the grammar. Maybe.**


End file.
